Federal Agent Gordon Peale crushed
acorns under his shoes, scattered gravel and made the transition from sidewalk
to concrete stair, muttering. “That jerk-off. He couldn’t land his helicopter
in an empty parking lot the size of a football field. Oh no; it had to be the
size of two football fields, covered with grass, and a college
football team... that bent winged beak-less buzzard of a chopper driver.”

O’Keefe Hall, once a public high
school, smelled like oiled wood and crushed pencils. It tickled Peale’s nose
and he sneezed. He peeked over both hands and his handkerchief and saw a black
man in an immaculate white lab coat gazing back. He held a worn spiral bound
notebook. Motioning ‘follow’ he took two steps, turned a door knob, and entered
his office.

“Doctor Offenhauser, the little
stone Frisbee episode has become a matter of national security. We need more
information A.S.A.P., something I can fax,” said Peale.

"It'll be in here. The first
part’s written by a high school kid, a friend of my son Offy."

Offy smiled at Peale. "We were
in the group that found the discs."

Doctor Offenhauser held up a CD-R
and placed it and the notebook softly on his mahogany desk. "I added a few
notes myself, but mostly it’s what the kid wrote. The photos and video clips I
mentioned are on this.”

Offy gestured at a chair. “Sit. You
a real live FBI?”

Peale smiled. “Yep.”

Offy pulled out the chair,
"Park it."

"Have a seat?" asked
Doctor Offenhauser glaring at Offy.

Peale sat. He picked up the
offering, smiled, thumbed pages and read:

Jerry’s Science Teacher said they
was polished flint. We didn’t exactly steal them, you know.

We were all trying to ‘See Rock
City, high atop Lookout Mountain’ up in Chattanooga, Tennessee, like it says on
all the billboards by sneaking around the gate. Jerry’s baby brother ‘poof’
disappeared like a snowball in hell [‘hell’
crossed out] Miami. He’s ten and starts hollering because he fell through
the ground. We could hear him hollering. A hole opened up right under his
scrawny ass [crossed out] butt [also crossed out] self was a cave
and we make a human chain to pull him out. It all took so much noise that we
got caught for sneaking in. But we got Mike back out first. So we drove down to
that little old drugstore at the base of Lookout Mountain.

Doctor Offenhauser interrupted
Peale, “It’s an understandable read but... but it might take a few minutes to
decode. Coffee?” He emphasized ‘coffee.’

“Professor, a little caffeine to go
with all the adrenaline I pumped today might just put me into an early medical
retirement.” Peale shook his head ‘no’ but then changed his mind, “Yes, I’ll
take some coffee; with extra sugar and extra cream. We can drink to a world
without Freddie.”

“Who Freddie?” said Offy.

"Speak English, my son,"
said Doctor Offenhauser.

“Freddie is my ‘Your Helicopter
Pilot for Today.’ Freddie is a... I read his personnel file and...” Peale
paused and decided on diplomacy, “He’s hard to live with. Everybody thinks so.”
Peal paused again, changed his mind about diplomacy, and continued, “Today and
everyday he finds somebody else to piss off or threaten or scare or all three.
He’s a cartoon looking for a TV show."

“To be honest ‘Freddie the Pilot’ is
also ‘Freddie the Nut Job’ and should be locked up. Christ, I have so many nut
jobs to lock up and there are so few jails.” He winked at Professor
Offenhauser, who laughed.

“Freddie sounds like a couple of my
students,” said Offenhauser.

“My pal Mike has his moods,” added
Offy.

“Won’t learn and won’t go home?”
said Peale and sat and read: We got some Cokes. Jerry pulls out these flint
discs that Mike hid in his pants that he got from the cave, the discs not the
pants. There’s no end to the strange shit [crossed out] stuff [crossed
out] things that these babies caused. In the drug store they busted a neon
sign, exploded like an M-80 firecracker. Made the florescent lights melt and
droop from the ceiling, and all of them electric toys started up by theyselves.
We got ran out of the drugstore. As long as Jerry let them discs stay on the
hood of his grand-momma’s car it wouldn’t start.

While we were trying to figure how
to start the car, Mike spins one of the discs on the sidewalk and it pulls the
hub caps off the right side of Grandmother’s old Chevy. She lent it to us. She
said we should “See Seven States from Rock City," like was painted on the
top of Old Man Wither's Barn. We bribed Mike to hold them and put him in the
trunk. Then the car started. Mike’s OK. We gave him five bucks and a canned
coke. But he did ride back in the trunk. Tough kid.

After we got back to Atlanta, Monday
after school, we decided to let Offy’s daddy look at them. Offy is tan with
brown splotches has big long ears and freckles. His dad teaches chemistry at
Georgia Tech. So we took them to Doctor ‘O.’

“You’re Doctor ‘O?’”

“Yes, but they usually call me 'Doc
O.’"

“And Offy.” Offy smiled and bounced
to his toes and back. Peale nodded and smiled.

He put them on an old turntable that
they have in the Chem. Department. Mike pulled them out of his pants first. We
figured that was the safest place. Mikes hair all stood on end. Offy shocked
Mike’s butt with one of ‘em. The bubble pump in the fish tank squirted water on
the ceiling.

Peale glanced up. The fish tank and
record player were none the worse for wear, “You played them? Like a 45 rpm
record?”

“I laid one of the discs down on my
Grand-Daddy’s Hi-Fi. I keep it here to remind me where I came from. He pawned
it to help pay my college bills my first quarter. The hi-fi, while not plugged
in I might add, not only came on but played a strange winsome melody,” said Doc
O.

Peale read: We got head-lights
and a bunch of cool cave shit [crossed out] stuff, [crossed out]
things, helmets and gloves and safety glasses. We got some of those trail food,
mixed oats and nuts with little bits of chocolate and yo-gut. Some bat do-do
got in Jerry’s that made Mike puked and...

The Fed glanced up at the Professor.
His face wrinkled into a frown. “Cool cave shit and Bat do-do?”

Doctor Offenhauser said, “The report
needs some editing. We all went back to Chattanooga properly equipped for
caving. Turn to page four.”

Peal turned, read: We followed a
little underground creek. The water rotated the flint disc thing, lights
flashed lots of color like a disco ball, and music played. Jerry threw Mike in
an’ made ‘em retrieved the disc and apppologizzed [sic] to Doctor Ofenhas
[crossed out] O.

“This kid is writing ‘sic’ after
each misspelling. If his English teacher didn’t smoke weed before she got this
kid in class, she probably does now.” Peale rolled his eyes and stood. “I need
a copy of this.”

“Not all secondary school teachers
are female. I used to teach high school English myself. There’s the copy
machine,” said Doctor Offenhauser pointing.

Peale, tapping the notebook, said.
“Have you got a secretary or an aide? We could have our interview while it’s
being copied. I'd like to speak with you and Offy together. If we talk now you
won’t need to come by to my office tomorrow.”

Peale jerked straight, groped his
pants’ pockets, answered his cell phone, and said “Well, flash him your badge, Freddie
the Fed. Tell him you always park your helicopter like that. Hell; let him
call the FAA all he wants. You’ve got that little talk scheduled with Air
Traffic Control anyway. YES, I do think you knocked one of the antennae
off Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport’s control tower earlier
today. You can ‘one call does it all’ with the FAA; LATER!”

Peale covered the phone with a hand,
“Shit-head Freddie has started an argument with the football coaching staff. He
left the chopper in the middle the practice field. Surprise; the football team
wants to play football.”

He said into the phone, “Tell him
you’re an alumnus that’s a big contributor to the football department or
division or... Yeah program, to the football program. You could just move
the chopper, Freddie. No, I’m sure it wouldn’t fit in your... That thing
belongs to the US Government, Freddie. It had better be in one, useful,
piece, when I see it again.” Peale closed his phone.

Agent Peale returned to his light
reading: Diameter, ten centimeters half cm thick at the outer edge 2 cm
thick in the center. 1 cm diameter hole in the middle. Seems liquid inside or
has something internal that moves. Weight about 100 grams. Will fly like a
Frisbee when thrown.

“You must have written this part.
It’s legible and coherent. The kids were throwing these?”

“Little ten year old Mike threw one
about thirty meters into the splash pool at the base of the subterranean falls.
It flew well. You ready for that coffee?” said Doc O and poured a cup. The odor
of Bestcafe` promised liquid peace.

Peale took a sip of coffee and said,
“’Good from the first drop,’ just like on TV. So there’s something inside huh?
Of the rock CD’s. Rock... er, flint CD’s. Disco Rocks?” Agent Peale smiled.

“They’re alive. No they don’t
breathe or anything, but... They have a lively feel, like grandmother’s wind up
alarm clock,” said Doc O.

“They’re clockwork? Gears and
stuff?”

“No, but you feel movement inside.
Like a plastic bottle full of motor oil. They definitely generate sound and
magnetic fields rather easily. They broadcast radio waves too.”

Peale grabbed at his pants again,
and said, “Excuse me.”

“Who? The campus cops want to what?
Tell them, tell them... Hello? Freddie?” Gordon Peale shook his cell phone and
slapped it on his palm. Put it to his ear.

“I don’t know why I hit the phone;
it never helps. But my call dropped or maybe Freddie did. Freddie’s an ass.
He’s probably started a fight over nothing... again.”

“Will you come with me? Somebody
is... on the phone it’s hard to tell who’s doing what to who; I mean whom.
Somebody’s bitching about the chopper. Freddie’s got a badge, and a gun and
poor negotiating skills. Did I say ‘poor?’ He negotiates like a concrete mule.
I might need you to fix a parking ticket for our chopper or make bail for
Freddie or maybe arrange for his burial. We’ll know after we get there.”

Doc ‘O,’ half smiled and said, “It’s
a short stroll to Rose Bowl Field. I don’t have any pull with the
football program or the campus police per se, but I do know the head football
coach and the top cop.”

“You’ve got to have more clout than
Freddie. Are there cheerleaders over there? I heard a girl giggle before the
call dropped.”

***

The 1928 Georgia Tech football team
played in The Rose Bowl, Pasadena, California. For motivational purposes
they named their practice site in Atlanta, Rose Bowl Field. The name
stuck.

It’s only a short block from O’Keefe
Hall and Doc ‘O’s’ office. But Gordon Peale, Federal Agent, and Lewis
Offenhauser, Dean and Professor of Chemical Engineering, had to go almost
another quarter mile to get around the cement block wall around Rose Bowl
Field.

The two professionals walked
quickly, trailed some ten meters by Offy. But they were all soon running. Doc
'O' got a phone call from his son, “Daddy, I just got a call from Mike. The
cops are talking jail and that Freddy guy is waving a gun.”

After finding the end of the not so
great [but plenty long] Wall of Georgia, Peale and Offenhauser sprinted
through an open gate.

“Where is it?” wheezed Peale.

Doc ‘O’ pointed and wheezed himself,
“Past the baseball field.”

The spectacle stunned the eye and
assaulted the ear. Flint saucers buzzed through the air back and forth flashing
colored lights and playing music. A few made it over the baseball field but
they turned around and came back. Some landed near Freddie and his helicopter.
Others just flew by belching noise and light. A hundred uniformed college
football players ran and threw and caught the flying discs.

Peale and Offenhauser passed two
wheel barrows, a steel oxygen bottle, and a golf cart that were bouncing three
meters into the air. They hit each other and the ground. Sometimes they were in
formation, sometimes not. A small pick-up truck tapped its tires to the rhythms
and appeared to be contemplating joining the fun. No one seemed to be hurt,
yet.

A crowd knotted around a parked blue
and gray helicopter. Coaches and cops, with an assortment of ‘other’ held a
heated argument. Freddie, distinguishable not only for extensive pushing and
shoving, but also for yelling, “I’m a Federal Agent,” waved his badge and Glock
automatic pistol.

“Get that egg beater out of
here," yelled a coach.”

Freddy stopped yelling and sounded
confused, "Egg beater?"

But Freddie waved his badge and
shouted again, “Mom said, I mean; no way, assholes. I’m a Fed and I’ve
got a gun.”

Peale momentarily held his knees and
studied the grass. Doc ‘O’ drank a Sports Aid drink he got from the
water-boy/girl squad attached to what was once a Division One football
practice.

With tongue and cheek returned to a
usable state, if strange color, Doctor Offenhauser invoked deity. “My God,
would you look at that; a half-time show from outer space.”

A TV news crew taped. Their reporter
commentated. “A new kind of workout: stone cold Frisbees. Yellow Jacket
Football will never be the same after today.

From the twenty-five foot
observation tower a horn sounded; followed by a PA announcement intended to
coordinate practice. “It’s five oh five, position drills. It’s time for
position drills, people.” The frustrated female voice added. “Turkey, move your
helicopter.”

Freddie lost all decorum. He flipped
his Glock’s safety to ‘off’ and popped several rounds into the air. “I am so
misunderstood. Mom said when in doubt baffle with bullshit. This is a top
secret,” pause, “Top secret something. Back away. Federal Currier, carrier,”
pause, “Federal Agent.” Pause “I’ll call my mother!”

Freddie’s blistering profanity and
periodic gunfire soon cleared the area around the helicopter. Mike put one of
the stone Frisbees in his pants for later. Offy saw him do it and did likewise.
Jerry, further into puberty than either and remembering the strange qualities
of the discs, tucked one under his arm. He didn’t want to lose any hubcaps.

“It’s a radio too? That blithering
ass,” with palms down Agent Gordon Peale took a soothing breath and let it out
slowly shaking his head. “How Freddie has managed to hold on to his job this
long defies logic. But I’ve seen it myself... reports that clearly show
Freddie's incompetence get lost or deleted and somehow never make it to the
personnel office.”

Peale smiled and said, “Little Disc
O’ Rock, friend Freddie needs a lesson.” He pitched the disc at the retreating
helicopter. It accelerated. In a single heartbeat the stone disc traveled as
fast as a rifle shot, splitting the air and leaving a vapor trail.

The explosion shook the ground. The
retort pressed every ear. A wave of hot air hit the ground bringing the odors
of jet exhaust and burnt upholstery. People cringed and ducked. Shredded
aluminum alloys rained onto the baseball diamond along with frost coated stone
Frisbees. Small clouds of lint swirled about. The disc Peale threw hurried back
and landed at his feet.

“Damn,” said Offy.

“Son, don’t use words like that,”
said Doctor Offenhauser.

Peale picked up the stone Frisbee,
slipped his arm around Offy’s thin bony shoulders and handed the now cold disc
back to the startled teen, who brushed frost from it.

“I wouldn’t put that thing in my
pants,” said Peale.

Before Offy could reply a snowball
the size of a small helicopter made a two bounce landing on the south end of Rose
Bowl Field, crumbled, and deposited Freddie next to the first aid station.
Thin wisps of fog curled from Freddie. A slightly darker smoke arose from his
ears and nose.